Given Freedom
by Abigail Rose V
Summary: Jazz is a slave of Prowl AND Soundwave. How can he live in both armies?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Prowl fired side by side with the other officers, trying to down the slave traders before they killed all the slaves the Enforcers were trying to free.

Rapid shots and pitiful cries showed that the small police force was failing in their task.

Prowl gritted his denta and pushed on, covering several officers as they made a run for the slave quarters.

Once they were inside, however, the whole place went up in an explosion, and Prowl knew they'd been lost.

"Pull back!" Prowl's commanding officer screamed as more and more of the illegal compound went up in flames.

As they all turned to leave, Prowl heard a faint cry from the burning buildings.

"Help me!" the voice whimpered, and Prowl turned back.

"Prowl!" it was his commander. "I said, pull back! No one survived that!"

"Someone did." Prowl didn't look back as he traced the call he had heard.

"I didn't hear anyone." Prowl's police partner complained. "Come on Prowl, stop trying to be a hero already. It doesn't help anything."

"If Prowl says he heard someone, he did." Prowl heard his commander say sharply.

Prowl waded into the flames, honing in on the area he had heard the cry.

"Hello?" he called gently. "Anyone there?"

"I am, if I'm anyone that is." A faint, raspy voice said weakly.

Prowl rushed over and lifted a piece of not-yet-engulfed-in-flames girder aside and saw a young slave crouched on the ground, brilliant blue visor staring up at him.

It was a black and white Porsche model, and he grinned up at Prowl. "Are you going to rescue me, or just stand there and burn to death?" he asked, rising gracefully from the ground.

Prowl silently held out his arms to the young bot, and said slave gratefully clambered into them.

Prowl then made a mad dash out, barely making it before the building finished collapsing in a roar of flames.

"Coulda moved a little faster. Your skideplate's got a burn." The young slave frisked a servo down and patted Prowl's rear.

"You don't act like any slave I've ever rescued." Prowl couldn't help noting, a little flustered.

The slave beamed up at him. "Maybe I'm not a slave. Maybe I'm one of the slave traders in disguise so that you'll rescue me and I can go free to imprison and torture other young, innocent mechs like myself."

Prowl nearly stumbled.

This bot made no sense.

"Prowl!" Prowl's team rushed towards him, glad looks on their faces.

The young slave, if he really was one, stiffened. "Who-who are they?" he asked warily, shrinking down into Prowl's strong arms.

"My team." Prowl answered.

"So there _was_ someone in there! Good work Prowl. A promotion might just be in your future." The commander beamed at Prowl.

"Thank you sir." Prowl murmured, trying to move forward while the rest of the team cooed over the young bot he cradled.

The confident attitude had vanished, and the slave was trying to hide his face in Prowl's chest, whimpering piteously.

The whole team transformed and headed back to their compound while Prowl headed off to place the slave into an organization that helped former slaves resume their lives back in free society.

Once Prowl was all alone, the young bot stopped shaking and began to laugh.

"What is so funny?" Prowl demanded.

"Their faces!" the slave choked out. "They thought I was really scared of them! It works so well every time!"

Prowl suddenly stopped and set the young bot down roughly.

"Ow!" he complained, one leg giving out and nearly making him fall if not for Prowl holding him up.

"Who are you?" Prowl demanded, and the slave looked up at him brightly.

"I have no name. I'm just a slave." He chirped innocently.

"Why did you act scared of my partners when you were not?" he asked next.

The slave wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. "They might take me away from you." He responded.

Prowl looked over him closely.

He sure _looked_ like a slave, but he sure didn't _act_ like a slave.

The tags, collars, and abuse marks were all over him, but the confident, friendly smile he shone on Prowl didn't fit.

The visor glowed blue, and Prowl was tempted to remove it to see under it, but when he reached for it, the slave recoiled, and cowered.

"Are you like them?" he whimpered, covering his face with one trembling arm. "I thought you might be different."

Prowl dropped his hand, then the slave, (he was sure he must be a slave, just a very strange one), relaxed.

"I thought you were different." He announced with no small relief in his voice. "Now, are we going to your home, or what? I'm ready to serve my master."

Prowl stiffened. " I am not your master." He corrected stiffly. "I am a police officer who just freed you from slavery. I am taking you to a place you can learn to live a free life in."

The black and white bot pouted. "But I don't want to be free. I was meant to be a slave. They said so." He sounded so matter-of-fact that Prowl had a hard time not face-palming in exasperation.

"No, you are a free bot now." Prow tried to explain, but choked off when the young bot sidled up to him, wrapping his arms around him again as he did so.

"I can make you very, very _happy_." He murmured, arching seducively into Prowl's body.

Prowl, to his horror, felt warmth growing in his groin.

The young slave took advantage of his hesitation, and began to stroke Prowl's body lightly, and rubbing along his doorwings.

There was a _pop_ , and Prowl glitched out as he froze up.

Prowl gradually came to in his own home, in his own bed, served by his own slave.

Wait… _slave_?

Prowl didn't own any slaves; he was against slavery for Primus's sake!

Slowly, the police officer sat up, and the perky slave danced over, poured him some energon, and offered it to him.

"Feeling better, my master?" he asked gaily, beaming up at Prowl with obvious delight.

"I am not your master." Prowl said firmly, then drank the much-needed energon the slave was offering him.

The slave shuttered one side of his visor in a wink, then tripped away to place the glass, presumably, in the sink.

"Pretty drab place you got here." Prowl jumped.

Somehow the young bot had came up from behind him, and silently at that.

Prowl turned to look at him, but he wasn't there.

"Look up." The voice sounded amused, and Prowl did as told, glancing upwards to see the Porsche dangling by his knee from a ceiling rafter.

Prowl gaped for a second, then snapped his mouth shut hard.

Standing to his feet, he beckoned the slave to come down.

Obediently, the slave twisted free and landed in a crouch nearby.

For a moment, the slave's visor glowed dangerously, but then it passed, and the young bot rose to his feet once more.

"Are we going somewhere?" he inquired happily, skipping over to where Prowl stood motionless.

"How old are you?" Prowl asked, ignoring the question.

The bot shrugged.

"Do you remember where you were sparked?" Prowl asked next, and the slave recoiled slightly.

"No, no please don't take me back!" he pleaded, visor flashing erratically, then threw himself on Prowl, clutching him tightly. " I wanna stay with you! I'll, I'll do better, I promise!"

The slave tore free of Prowl and sped off grabbing a cloth as he did so, and frantically began whisking the cloth around, trying to show how useful he was by dusting the place.

"That's not why I asked." Prowl sighed, and the slave paused.

"Really?" he said, his face lighting up.

He dropped the cloth and danced over to Prowl.

The whole time he did so, Prowl had noticed something unique: the bot moved silently.

Not a sound did he make as he twirled across the floor to Prowl's side to beam up at him.

"Do you remember who your creators are?" he asked next.

The slave shook his head.

Prowl suppressed another sigh. "Come on." He said, turning to leave.

"Where are we going?" the smaller bot stayed right where he was, watching warily.

"To the slave rehabilitation center." Prowl responded.

The slave promptly whirled and ran, disappearing in Prowl's small apartment.

Prowl followed, and searched his whole apartment from top to bottom before finally discovering the shivering, sniffling bot in an air duct in the ceiling.

As soon as he saw Prowl, he pressed backwards further.

"Don't!" he begged, shaking his head furiously. " They'll take me! Don't!"

Prowl hesitated.

"How about we go visit my commander instead?" he offered, thinking quickly.

His commanding officer always had great advice on how to deal with surprising situations, and Prowl hoped he could do something about this slave.

The young bot slithered down and landed in Prowl's arms, snuggling close.

Prowl was relived, and strode out of his apartment and down the street, the slave clinging to him as though he might vanish forever.

As soon as they reached the home in question, the door opened.

"Why, Prowl!" the commander exclaimed, looking surprised. "I wasn't expecting you."

Then he noticed the young slave, face hidden once more.

He frowned.

"Why haven't you taken him to the center yet?" he asked in disapproval.

"That's what I came to you for." And Prowl explained what had been going on, the young bot somehow melting into the kitchen and unobtrusively bringing them drinks while they talked.

The commander's face got more and more concerned.

"It would appear that he was born into slavery." He said thoughtfully, gulping down the energon he was brought. "But some of his behaviors don't match. Where is he? I would like to see him a little better."

Prowl glanced up, but the slave was nowhere to be seen.

Apologetically, he rose to find him, when his commander suddenly grasped at his chest and went still.

There was a commotion fro the kitchen and a shriek that was cut off mid-cry, and then silence.

Prowl rushed to his commander, but he was dead.

Calling emergency medical, Prowl raced into the kitchen.

The door swung lazily, but there was no one in sight.

Someone had poisoned Prowl's commander and stolen the young slave.

All that was left was a name, in large, scrawled letters, _JAZZ_.

Prowl never stopped looking for the young bot.

After the commander was killed, Prowl was promoted as commander instead, and did his job well.

He just never stopped double-checking every smallish, black and white Porsche with a blue visor for the missing young bot.

More then once, as he hunted down a smuggler and assassin Porsche model who matched the young slave's description, but had a name, Jazz, and by his records never had been a slave, he would think of his missing young bot.

He could have sworn the troublesome smuggler Jazz was the exact same bot, but personally was never able to check up on him, as the bot always escaped him.

He would catch glimpses of black and white, and sometimes a twinkling blue visor would wink at him from the shadows, but he could never catch the elusive troublemaker.

Then the Great War broke out, and Prowl all but gave up the search.

"Hey Prowl, boss says to tell you there's a new recruit coming in!" the twin Lamborghini Sideswipe, one of the newer recruits himself, leaned in the doorway to tell the Autobot SIC, Military Strategist, general discipliner and tactician the information.

Prowl nodded curtly to him, spying the yellow twin, Sunstreaker, glaring over his red twin's shoulder.

"Aren't you going to thank him?" Sunstreaker demanded when Sideswipe began to walk away.

"A nod of thanks was offered." Prowl said tersely. "You are dismissed."

With an exaggerated huff, Sunstreaker turned to follow his brother, coming to a sudden halt as a cheerful voice rang out, "Hey man, what's with the cloudy face? I figured with a name like yours, you'd be all smiles and sunshine!"

Prowl froze at the voice.

It sounded so… _familiar_.

A little different-older-to be sure, but still familiar.

"You're the new recruit, aren't you?" Sunstreaker asked warily.

"Indeedy I am, man. You look fresh around the audios yourself. How is it, being new in this place?"

Prowl rose from his desk.

"Why don't you just find out?" Sunstreaker pointed the yet unseen bot towards Prowl's door. "Your recruiting officer is in there, and I'd be careful if I were you or you'll land in the brig right off."

"Speaking from personal experience I gather." The other bot chuckled, and Prowl stepped into the hall.

A proud black and white Porsche model stood in the hall, blue visor twinkling merrily at Sunstreaker.

Then he looked right at Prowl. "Ah, so we meet again, my noble rescuer, nemesis, and _master_." He said, and beamed at Prowl.

Prowl was taken back several million years to a young slave, who beamed up at him as he carried him home from a burning slave trader compound.

To a runaway saboteur who exploded part of the police compound-and winked as he fled.

To a smuggler who traded illegal goods-and left Prowl gifts with every case.

To the assassin that killed his own commander.

And even, a blurry memory of the one time he had been drunk, and the owner of the nightclub cozying up with him, black and white trim gleaming, and blue visor glowing softly as they kissed, and yes, they had a very intense interface session, the best Prowl had had to date.

"I'm sure you'll remember my name from before." The bot was saying. "It's Jazz."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"So, you know him?" Prime, and most the other Autobots were staring at Prowl with open-mouthed amazement.

Evidently, Jazz was something of a legend and even a hero among the other Cybertronians, Decepticon and Autobot alike.

Prowl sat tight lipped and stiff.

"Yes. I know him." He said tersely. " We have a troubled history."

Prime glanced down at his servos in which Prowl had thrust several forms documenting the cheerful Jazz, who was under watch by Mirage at the time and probably laughing about it.

"Well," Prime shuffled through the papers.

Prowl noticed most of the Autobots had been staring as a point just above Prime's head, and now many of them were holding back smiles.

He was just turning to look up himself when Mirage burst in, all shades of guilt.

"Jazz!" he panted, "He's-"

"Right here."

Mirage, Prowl, and Prime jerked their helms upward to see Jazz hanging from his knees above Prime's head, a smirk on his face.

"Took ya long enough Mirage." Jazz chuckled, and neatly flipped down, landed gracefully-and silently-at Prowl's side.

Prime had a thunderstruck expression on his faceplates.

"You, _you_!" he burst out. "My old friend! You're _Jazz_!"

The grinning bot turned and peered up at him. "Do I know you?" he questioned teasingly. "You can't be the same Orion Pax turned Optimus Prime that I remember. The one I know didn't know how to run an army."

Optimus scooped Jazz up in his arms and hugged him tightly. "I thought you were killed in that battle. What happened?"

"Ah, just got captured but don't worry, I escaped."

Prime laughed. "You always were getting out of one scrape or another I remember. You were awfully good at making trouble and then getting out of it."

"And I was really good at keeping your processor intact." Jazz purred back.

"Ah remember you now!" Ironhide exclaimed.

Jazz looked down at him and waved. "Old boy, you seem to have shrunk. I think I could best you in wrestling now."

Prime laughed and gaily dumped the much smaller bot down on the ground in front of the old red and silver warrior.

Ironhide placed a heavy ped on his chest and held it there lightly.

"Wow, I guess I had the wrong perspective." Jazz grinned again and rolled out from under Ironhide's ped.

Ratchet tapped his own ped on the floor loudly and Jazz made a show of looking for him. "Old Ratch can't be around here, now can he? If Megatron's blown him up, I'll have to personally thank him, then kill him."

"You little rascal." Ratchet reached out as Jazz backed into range, and squeezed him affectionately. "You'll be getting a check up soon, I promise."

"Hey!" Jazz wriggled in Ratchet's grip. "If I'd known you were here, I'd never have signed up! You'll kill me someday with your sadistic healing methods!"

Ratchet released the wiggly assassin, and he did a handspring and a cartwheel back to Prowl's side.

"Troubled history?" the Porsche laughed softly. "I thought it was fun. Don't you remember this?" and just like that, Jazz had ghosted a servo down Prowl's back to stroke his aft while he took the SIC's chin and touched their foreheads together.

The silence from around the room spoke volumes of the shock the others were experiencing.

"That, that was _you_?" Prowl spluttered, moving back from Jazz, the other letting him go and gazing at him. "Were you really a slave?"

"Yep." Jazz grinned at him. "Thanks for rescuing me, really. If not for you, this universe would never have been graced by my admirable performances." He bowed to the others, who clapped.

Prowl had a hard time believing that.

Jazz grin faded as he saw the look on Prowl's face. " Come on man, honestly. You should feel proud to have been the hero that day."

Prowl inwardly flinched.

"Don't think I didn't hear." Jazz whispered softly.

"Fine." Prowl suddenly snapped. "You're staying with me. No going _anywhere_ without me along to supervise. Understand?"

Jazz knelt on one knee. "Yes master." He said softly. "I understand."

"Jazz, please. I need to check you all over. It's protocol." Ratchet was losing patience quickly with the Porsche, who refused to let anyone touch his visor.

Prowl had long since lost his patience, and ordered Jazz to let Ratchet finish his medical exam, but Jazz seemed to be deaf to his commands, crouched up in a back corner of the ceiling.

"No!" Jazz snapped again.

Ratchet sighed and stomped over under Jazz.

"Don't make me drag you down from there." He warned.

Jazz flashed him a wicked and entirely humorless grin. "You can't."

Prowl didn't understand, but Ratchet, who knew Jazz better, backed off several steps and kept trying to coax the stubborn bot down.

Prowl quietly called for backup.

Within seconds, Ironhide and Prime had stepped in, locking the door behind them.

Jazz shot a betrayed look at Prowl, and shrank even further back in his corner.

"Don't." he warned.

"Ratchet, we've never looked at his optical sight before. I'm sure it's not really necessary." Prime suggested.

"Now there's a mech with sense." Jazz looked relived.

"You're _not_ taking his side!" Ironhide, Prowl, and Ratchet shouted at the same time, and Prime flinched, and held his hands up.

"All I'm saying is… where's Jazz?"

They all looked where Jazz had been.

He was gone.

Screaming.

That was all Prowl could hear through the medic bay's doors as he paced outside them.

They had finally caught the runaway saboteur a few days later, and dragged him, in ankle and wrist cuffs, back to the med bay.

Jazz had cussed them all out, and had spat out that if he had to suffer this, only Ratchet could be there.

So Prowl, Ironhide, and Prime were waiting just outside, in case the old medic needed help.

They heard Ratchet swearing dreadfully, and metallic cracking and grinding.

Then they heard the cuffs snapping, and Ratchet began yelling for help.

All three burst through the doors, slamming and locking them behind themselves, and threw themselves on Jazz, partly freed from the berth, writhing madly and screaming.

Blue rivulets of energon poured from the edges of his partially removed visor, and Ratchet was lying quite stunned on the floor nearby, a nasty dent on the side of his helm, and energon splattered across his front.

Prowl felt a surge of possessiveness and protectiveness, and while Prime and Ironhide rushed to Ratchet's side, he went to Jazz.

As he laid his hands on Jazz's face, the bot's face twisted in pain, fear, and hate, and he clawed desperately at Prowl, making the other bot thankful Jazz didn't actually have claws, whereas he did.

What he wasn't expecting was the strong magnetic surge that threw him backwards across the room, knocking his circuits out for a few kliks.

"Watch his fingers!" he called out to Ironhide, who was lunging for Jazz, who slid out of the rest of his bindings and rolled out of the heavy warrior's path.

Jazz turned his head and cocked it to the side, then began moving quickly, his audial horns twitching as he navigated the now-messy med bay.

Prowl could barely hear the faint, high clicking the Porsche was emitting; he was using echolocation to find his way around.

"Jazz is blind?" he questioned dumbly, and Ratchet, who had been helped to his feet by Prime, glared at him.

Prowl blinked stupidly.

His processor felt jammed and sluggish and Ratchet rolled his optics before marching over noisily and messing with his circuits for about a breem, before Prowl felt back to normal.

By that time, Prime and Ironhide had cornered Jazz once again, this time against a flat wall, and were gently coaxing him into letting them take him back to the berth to complete his checkup.

Which was fast turning into a medical emergency when Jazz leaped straight up in the air and ninja-kicked Ironhide in the throat, knocking him back before Prime had snatched him in both huge servos and held him firmly in mid-air, kicking and starting to scream again as the Autobot leader carried him back to a clean berth.

"NOOOOO!" Jazz wailed as Prime and Prowl pinned him to the berth.

Jazz was strong for his size, immensely so, but he was no match for Prime, and with Prowl's help, and Ironhide's once he was on his feet again, and he was firmly held in place as Ratchet dismantled the rest of the visor assembly and removed it, resulting in a rush of energon.

Ratchet, swearing softly, stopped the flow of fluid, and then stared in horror that was Jazz's exposed face.

Horribly infected gouges had transformed his face around the area just under the visor into a mangled mess, and sightless red orbs were cruelly bolted in place in the grossly disfigured sockets where his optics were supposed to be.

"Megatron's doing, I'm sure." Prime said as he examined the claw marks.

"How can he even see?" Prowl asked, horrified.

Ratchet was examining the visor. " Someone installed this visor to re-direct his optical sensors into it. Without the visor, he is completely blind."

"There's gotta be somethin' we can do about his face!" Ironhide exclaimed, having never taken his eyes from the blemished mass of infection around the blood-red orbs.

"And there is." Ratchet said.

Jazz, who had gone completely silent once the visor was gone, growled. "Don't touch me."

Ratchet nodded to Prime, Ironhide, and Prowl, and all three pinned the smaller bot's body beneath their's, leaving just his face exposed.

"Oh." Was all Jazz said.

Who knew how many hours later, a sedated Jazz was helped to his feet, the ninja bot collapsing weakly against Prowl for support.

Ratchet had cut away all the infected area, and cleaned up any wound, old or new, on his face.

He had then removed the red crystals from his optical sockets, and cleaned all the delicate sensors inside and around them.

New optics were on order, but for now, the blue visor was firmly back in place.

Every one was relived, because the scarring was horrific, though Ratchet said he could cut that way later when he installed the new optics.

He also unlocked the retracting system on the visor, so he would not have to remove it completely the next time he operated on Jazz.

Prowl helped Jazz to his own berth room, deciding that just for tonight the exhausted little bot could sleep with him.

As he slid into berth next to him, Jazz snuggled up to Prowl, curling his body into the contours of Prowl's body, and clung to him.

That was how they stayed all night long.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Prowl massaged his temples while Jazz rifled through the desk papers for the umpteenth time.

"Stop that." He ordered, also for the umpteenth time.

"But master I'm bored." Jazz whined and Prowl wanted to smack him _sooo_ badly.

"For the last time, I am not your master!" Prowl growled at him.

Jazz blinked and tilted his head in a way Prowl still found irresistibly cute.

"That's what you said the _last_ last time." He remarked. "How many last times are there?"

Prowl just glared at him and resumed reading paperwork.

A second later there was a loud _crash_ , everything went dark, and Prowl's desk suddenly had a Porsche seated on it, kicking his legs and grinning broadly.

"I do believe the power's off." Jazz announced. "Time to get out of this prison cell for awhile I think."

"And then what happened?"

Prowl had to admit, Jazz's stories of his adventures _did_ sound thrilling- to the ones who never had to clean up the mess he left behind him.

Prowl had finally started leaving his office door open so that Jazz could stop other bots from doing their jobs to tell them stories, teach them to dance, or just give them advice on stealthy movement, the best way to spy without being detected, and the right way to quietly deactivate somebot if you needed to.

Jazz was everybody's friend; if they needed someone to talk to, Jazz was there.

If they needed cheering up, they went to Jazz.

Even Prime had been asking Jazz for advice when they had to infiltrate Decepticon headquarters, and even tried to talk Prowl into letting Jazz into the ranks properly, as Head of Special Ops, since he was so good at that kind of thing.

Jazz, for all his fun-loving ways, was a very serious and committed bot, and Prime appreciated his efforts even when kept by Prowl's side.

Prowl didn't trust that winningly charming blue visor, though.

This bot was a criminal, one of the top most-wanted in Cybertron, though he had racked up quite a list of heroics to his name as well.

Prowl lost count of the many operations he had heard of being helped out by the confident Porsche right when they thought all was lost.

Jazz was a mystery, and Prowl always solved his mysteries.

Jazz was just proving to be a tough case to crack.

"That's it, deep breath in, deep breath out. Now, no, no, Prowly, keep those sparkly blues closed, relax…. No, stop thinking of your paperwork, I can see it in the way you tensed your left doorwing, reellaaxxxxx… there… weee... goooo…"

Jazz was trying to coach Prowl into being a ninja like him.

Prowl already had the basic skills down, but Jazz was the best he had ever seen, and since Jazz teaching him also kept him busy, he supposed why not.

Plus, ever since he had learned that Prowl was a ninja too, all he did for days was beg to see Prowl's stuff, and to spar with him.

When he saw how little Prowl actually knew, he offered to teach him.

Bringing that little habit of calling him master back up again of course.

No matter what Prowl did or said, Jazz kept calling him that, once even in the midst of battle, making Skywarp snicker loudly.

The seeker had paid dearly for that when Jazz attacked him, turning the proud jet into a pile of sniveling, sparking Decepticon crybaby in no time, when Thundercracker had arrived and knocked Jazz aside with a blow to his tender horns, then under his chin, flipping him backwards.

Prowl had dragged Jazz, who was next to unconscious, off behind a large boulder, then got back to the fight.

When he returned, Soundwave was hovering over his charge, and Prowl was thankful he blasted the telepath before he did anything.

Jazz had been quiet all the way back, riding in Ratchet's back with Prowl next to him, until they got back to the base.

Then he looked up at Prowl with a melting expression on his face.

"Master," he said in a helpless tone, "Don't take me to the medical bay. Just please don't." and Prowl found himself agreeing.

Jazz was not that badly hurt after all.

Just stunned.

Jazz had seriously picked up the ninja training with Prowl after that little incident, as though he was afraid something would happen to him before he completed his training.

"Oh thank you thank you thank you master!" Jazz was dancing around him like a madbot. "Thank you so much!"

Prowl groaned. " I am not-"

Jazz snatched him and hugged him tightly, kissing him full in the mouth before letting go and dancing away.

Prowl spluttered.

"Tootles!" Jazz sang out, and dashed away.

Prowl just hoped he wouldn't regret this.

Prime had finally convinced him to promote Jazz to head of Special Ops, and TIC of the Autobot army.

Which meant Prowl could not control his every moment now, and who knew what the mischievous Porsche might do when left to his own devices.

Things settled back to normal now that Jazz was not with him 24/7.

But strangely, Prowl found himself missing the perky bot, always ready with a joke or piece of advice.

He missed the warmth that was Jazz at night, when, even though Prowl insisted on sleeping separate from the energetic Porsche, he still managed to sneak into his berth and snuggle up to Prowl in his sleep.

Jazz was very affectionate and cuddly, and very flirty.

Prowl had lost count of the times he had to interrupt Jazz while he was seducing yet another Autobot while the tactician was trying to work.

But he never pushed Prowl, even though they literally lived together for almost two years.

They ate together, fought together, and slept together.

Jazz knew the ins and outs of the Autobot army better then even Prime himself thanks to working with Prowl all the time.

He also knew how strict Prowl was, and often found himself over the other's knees, receiving a much-needed aft warming.

That was basically the only punishment Prowl could use on him, as he had refused to let Jazz leave his sight for any reason, for punishment, or even on the battlefield, when he had tethered Jazz to him with energy bonds, the strongest he had.

He had tried making Jazz sit still for punishment, but Jazz wouldn't obey; he had tried making him watch Teletran's monitor while Prowl worked next to him, but he would start reprogramming things and Prowl would have to punish him for that too.

Even when he tried scolding the cheerful bot, he would just get talked back to, and finally resigned himself to spanking Jazz on a near-daily basis.

He had tried reasoning with Jazz, when he had violently protested such treatment, reminding him that if he would behave, this wouldn't be happening.

Jazz just shot back that if Prowl would just let him out and be useful, there would be no misbehaving.

Prowl gave up and just spanked him wordlessly.

Prowl also had to learn to ignore most of his ramblings, because not only could he talk himself out of a spanking, he nearly convinced Prowl to fudge on some reports just to get the others moving faster, to skip some of the more tedious paper work in order to get the other ones done, or to turn a blind eye to the misbehavior of the other bots when they were 'just having a bit of fun!'

Yes, Prowl was glad he no longer had to deal with the hyperactive Jazz.

But he would miss the ray of sunshine he never failed to bring him, even in the middle of a losing battle.

"Autobots, roll out!"

It was the fist battle Jazz would be in that Prowl did not have him tethered, but you would never know it.

Jazz stuck by his side like glue, and Prime had even double-checked with Prowl to ensure he was not tying Jazz again.

And Jazz still called him master, something which bothered Prowl immensely.

Jazz actually had many nicknames for him, Prowler, Prowly, P.L., Pworly Bot when he was whining for something, but being called master torqued Prowl off every time, and it made him wonder if that was why Jazz did it, just to see him get mad.

Jazz had earned his title TIC fairly quickly, tolerating no disobedience once he gave a direct order.

It had come as a surprise to Prowl, to see the often-disobedient Jazz disciplining Bumblebee one day, but Jazz had explained that Bumblebee had directly disobeyed him while in the con base, and could have killed someone.

Prowl later asked Bumblebee what he had done, and what the little yellow bot told him made no sense to Prowl at first.

Jazz had ordered them not to fire a shot at any con, for any reason, and to just be captured if they were discovered.

Bumblebee had been found and caught by Starscream, so he blasted him in the face.

He and the other Autobots got away, but Jazz was livid.

He spanked Bumblebee pretty hard, and gave him a stern lecture.

When Prowl questioned Jazz on this later, he firmly told Prowl that he had been standing in the same room as Megatron and Soundwave, planting explosives under the very monitor they were watching.

As soon as the shots rang out, he had been forced to race between their peds and rescue Bumblebee while getting the rest of the team out.

If Bumblebee had just let Starscream carry him into the cells, Jazz could have easily broken him out and still left.

As it was, Jazz now didn't trust the intell he had gathered, because they were caught in the act.

And if Jazz said something wasn't trustworthy, then, it wasn't.

There was simply no better bot then Jazz when is came to, well, anything requiring special training and expertise.

Even Tracks, the next best spy and saboteur, was jealous of Jazz's success.

 _Was_ , until Jazz gave him some specialized training of his own, after which Tracks became almost as deadly as Jazz himself, and was forever grateful to the Porsche for his help.

But even when Jazz trained his team for Special Ops, not one could match his style.

Jazz was always the cool and collected bot; while the others were still floundering and trying to fit in or understand the culture around them, Jazz would be making friends and buying drinks, while gathering a crowd of admirers.

Often, Jazz would simply vanish, and later return with some vital piece of information they needed.

And the Autobots stopped asking questions when they would heard of an important but cruel leader meeting a sudden and often painful death, or of a smuggling racket becoming extremely powerful and overthrowing the corrupt police force out of the blue.

They also got trickles of a talented dancer keeping it wild at nearly every nightspot in the area, and of bots paying high money to interface with a superb pleasure bot that came and went as he pleased.

At first, they all questioned Jazz, but he always was with someone else at the time, or even in his own berth!

They gave up, and even though they all suspected Jazz was behind it, Prowl most of all, they could never catch him.

Jazz was forever disappearing without a trace, but Prime had stopped scolding him for it.

He never came back without some intell that put them ahead of the Decepticons, and he always worked hard while actually at the base, ensuring everything ran smoothly and happily, keeping them all in better moods then in eons past.

Prowl supposed he should be grateful for Jazz's help in so many things.

Like with the humans.

Once they had woken up on earth, and had to manage their life with these teeny and delicate creatures called humans, if there was a disagreement with the humans on one thing or another, Jazz was always the one who worked his skidplate off soothing relationships.

But he could not help but forever worry that he was up to something, though he couldn't guess at what.

It was odd though, how glued to his side Jazz was at times, while at other times Prowl couldn't even get near him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Jazz, its mah job to pertect Ahptimus, not yers. Ya coulda died jumpn' in ther like thaht. Yer not built to withstand millions of dergrees o' heat lil' buddy." Ironhide placed a hand on Jazz's shoulder while Ratchet worked on the damaged spy.

"But you weren't there, and somebot had to do it." Jazz protested.

"I couldn't have gotten out of there myself." Optimus said from the other side of the berth. "Thank you Jazz."

"Aw, you're welcome Op, couldn't bear the thought of life in the Autobot army without you around to keep processors in order."

Prowl frowned from where he stood watching.

Jazz was immensely loyal, that was true, and he always just happened to be the closest bot to Optimus whenever something major threatened his life.

Even Ironhide, the Prime's official bodyguard, somehow wound up separated from his charge when something especially bad happened.

There were even times when Jazz was supposedly not even in the area that he would magically appear and rescue his beloved leader from certain death.

It seemed rather odd, but there was once again, nothing Prowl could do about it.

If Jazz wanted to save Prime's life, then so be it.

"Master, you look pooped. You should go get some shut-eye." Prowl briefly closed his optics, trying not to groan.

"Will you stop calling me that?" he growled, and Jazz looked hurt.

"Yeah, whaht's with ahll this, mastah business between you and Prowl anyway?" Ironhide peered down at Jazz, who was struggling lightly as Ratchet tried to place a weld on his elbow joint.

"Hold still!" Ratchet snapped, but Jazz didn't.

"It'll hurt!" he complained, ignoring Ironhide's question.

"Of course it'll hurt, you little sparkling!" Ratchet fumed. " A wrench on your backside'll hurt worse."

Jazz stilled immediately at the threat. "All right, alright, no need to get all nasty there Ratch, I'll hold still while you melt my arm."

Ratchet bent over his work and Ironhide cleared his vocalizer. "Ah do believe ah asked ya a question, youngn'." He said pointedly.

"Oh, that." Jazz said casually, waving the hand not pinned down dismissively in the air. "It's just something I do. I always give nicknames to the bots I like." He winked at Prowl, who stared steadily at him.

"It would seem tha Prowl here hates it, so if ya truly lahked 'im, yah wouldn't call 'im that." Ironhide retorted.

"Oh, but I can't help myself." Jazz said airily, wincing as Ratchet applied the welder to the tender joint.

 _Can't help myself_.

"Ratchet." Prowl said suddenly. "Scan Jazz's processor for slave programming."

The other Autobots suddenly had knowing looks on their faces and Ratchet face palmed.

Jazz had stilled, and his visor gone blank.

"Of course Prowl, why didn't I think of that when he first showed up, having been a slave and all." Ratchet finished his weld and reached for another machine when Jazz suddenly tried to flip off the berth and make a break for it.

"No! Don't touch me!" he snapped when Prowl, Prime, and Ironhide caught him and pinned him to the berth, struggling to keep a hold on the experienced escape artist.

"What's wrong Jazz?" Prime motioned for Ratchet to wait while he massaged under Jazz's jaw gently, trying to calm him down while the spy thrashed and fought to be free.

"Please!" Jazz gasped, but his visor was trained on Prowl, not Prime. "Don't let him into me, master please!"

"Stop. Calling. Me. That." Prowl snarled through gritted denta.

"I can't!" Jazz wailed, body basically immobilized by the bots pinning him down. "I'll, I'll explain! And I'll tell the truth! I swear by my speakers I will!"

"Alright Jazz, you tell us and Ratchet won't scan you." Prime soothed, but did not let go of the trembling assassin.

A barely smothered whine came from Jazz, and Prowl knew what it meant.

"Get off him and let him sit up." He instructed.

The other two followed his example as he backed away from Jazz, and the black and white bot slowly sat up, scooting to the edge of the berth and kicking his legs slightly as he looked at them, even twisting to check on Ratchet, who sighed and walked over to the other bots so as Jazz could keep his visor on him.

Jazz cleared static from his vocalizer, opened and shut his normally over-active mouth, rubbed the back of his neck, and kicked his peds, averting his gaze finally and staring at the floor, visor flashing white and blue before finally dimming as he coughed.

It was almost humorous to see, the talkative bot being unable to find words, but Prowl was quickly losing patience and was about to snap at him when he finally looked up, offering them all a weak smile.

"Well, I don't really know how to explain this, but," Jazz broke off again and twitched unhappily.

"Go on." Prime encouraged him gently, but Jazz wasn't looking at him again; he was staring at Prowl.

Prowl nodded stiffly at him to continue, and Jazz kicked his peds nervously again.

"I'm-I'm," Jazz swallowed hard. "Still a slave." He hung his head and cringed, as though expecting to be struck for having said it.

To say the Autobots listening were _thunder_ struck was an understatement though.

"Say, what?" Ratchet stared at the normally proud and fiercely independent bot who now look so small and fragile, sitting slumped on the medical berth.

"I'M A SLAVE!" Jazz yelled at him, looking more helpless and frustrated then anyone had ever seen him.

"Hold on now Jazz." Ironhide said. "Jes how does tha werk?"

Jazz was gripping the edges of the berth with both hands now, his body taunt with tension.

"You don't want to know." Jazz said faintly.

"I do." Prowl said flatly. "Tell me."

Jazz looked at him, and whined sadly. "Don't make me master, don't make me." He pleaded softly.

"If he doesn't, then ah will." Ironhide fumed, but Prime stopped him.

"No, Ironhide. No one is going to force Jazz to say anything." The massive red, blue, and white bot stared firmly down at his red bodyguard, who muttered something disrespectful, but didn't move.

Prowl's mind had not been idle while this had been going on.

He didn't not have the name of _Prowl_ for no reason, and he had uncovered many, many interesting things about what he had at first assumed were different black and white Porsche's, but now he suspected they may be one and the same.

One way to find out, though…

"Hex." He said simply.

Jazz's visor went a brilliant white, and he tried to curl in on himself, but Prowl issued another programmed command: " Octengain."

Jazz's body went limp, and Prowl lunged forward to catch him before he tipped off the berth, laying him out to reveal the purple insignia now on his chest.

The other bots behind him let their jaws drop in shock, but somehow Prowl wasn't surprised.

Jazz had an agonized look on his face, and Prowl re-commanded the insignia change and then released him from the paralyzing command.

"He's, he's a Derceptericon spah?!" Ironhide sounded a mix of heartbroken and outraged.

"No, he's a Decepticon _and_ an Autobot slave. I think Soundwave and I need to have a talk." Prowl stroked along Jazz's jaw as the smaller bot shivered, huddling into him as though seeking protection.

"Soundwave?" Prime sounded curious.

Jazz buried his face in Prowl's doorwings.

Prowl kept stroking him as he explained. " Jazz comes from a top-line slave dealership that creates slaves to-order, forcing other slaves to mate and then taking the sparklings and building them to whatever they had been ordered to be."

"I am an interface and dancing model." Jazz whispered into his doorwings, just loud enough for the others to hear.

"That, that makes perfect sense." Ratchet snapped his fingers.

"Soundwave ordered his construction, but the slave dealers realized Jazz was something special when he was birthed, and backed him up with another master in case something happened to Soundwave." Prowl continued.

"And tha bot wahs you?" Ironhide asked.

Prowl nodded, rubbing his thumb in the palm of one of Jazz's servos.

"I know of these made-to-order slave bots." Ratchet said suddenly. "If their master dies, they die. So it's no wonder he has two-or more. How many masters do you really have Jazz?"

"Just two." Jazz's voice was muffled by Prowl's doorwings, and Prowl gently guided him out from back there, taking his chin and turning him to face him.

"Are you sure?" he asked firmly, and Jazz nodded, sad visor staring into Prowl's stern optics.

Then a flare of anger took over Jazz, and he wrenched away from Prowl, scrambling backwards and away from him, leaping off the berth and backing into a corner, glaring at them all.

"You pit sucking swine! I don't want to be a slave, I want to be free! And I can't and you can just stand there and give me all your stinking sympathy all you want. Nothing changes I'm a slave and I can never be truly free! I hate you! I hate you all!" Prowl knew Jazz was lying, but the others didn't know that.

"Whoa, Jazz." Ratchet tried to placate the seething saboteur, and Ironhide lifted a gun and aimed at the enraged Jazz.

"Jazz, enough." Prowl said sharply.

Jazz glared at him. "So now you finally start treating me like your slave, after all this time. I was hoping you were different!" Jazz spat on the floor, servos clenched with either fear or rage, Prowl could not tell.

"I am." Prowl walked deliberately up to him, taking his wrists and holding them gently. "I will not reject you as my slave, but I do offer you your freedom every moment of the day. You are not beholden to obey me. You know this, as I freed you many millions of years ago when I first met you."

Jazz's heaving shoulders hunched and he lowered his head, intakes shuddering as he tried not to cry. "I want so much to be free." He whimpered. "But I can feel him and you at all times, and it keeps me-"

"I know, shhh." Prowl rubbed his shoulders and gently picked him up.

Ironhide glared at him. "How much do yah tell yer telepathic mastah of wha goes on he-ah?" He demanded, and Jazz shuttered his visor, turning into Prowl.

"It is not his fault, numb-skull!" Ratchet snapped at his mate. " He is programmed for it."

"Ah still don like it!" Ironhide growled back, and Prime stepped between them quickly.

"Enough!" Prime thundered, and everything fell still. " All we can do is call for a special meeting with Soundwave, and try to get him to let us keep Jazz, not matter the cost."

Jazz lifted his head, startled. "You would do that for me?" he asked, a surprised look on his face.

"Provided you want that. If not, we will have to leave you with the Decepticons, as we can't have you, even though unwillingly, being a spy for them while here." Prime looked sadly at Jazz who nodded with understanding.

" I want to be a full Autobot." He said softly. "Not a Decepticon slave and an Autobot slave."

"We'll see what we can do." Prime promised. "But for now, I need you to stay with Prowl. No going anywhere without him."

Jazz nodded again, though he drooped considerably.

"It's not that we don't trust you." Ratchet hastened to assure the spy. "But, you can't help reporting on us, and, well, you know." Ratchet hoped Jazz understood.

Jazz flashed his sunny smile on the old medic. "Sure thing." He replied.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Jazz mine!" the blue telepath fumed.

"Okay, okay, Soundwave, please!" Jazz stood by Prowl, pleading with his first master to calm down.

After a lot of arguing, Prime had finally got his meeting with Soundwave.

Jazz stayed with Prowl as requested, filling him in on the background of his slavery to both him and Soundwave.

Jazz ran away regularly, and that was how he got around so much, and became the legend he was.

Soundwave though, he said, truly did love him, but was very, very strict.

Even more strict then Prowl, he had chuckled.

Prowl discovered, much to his dismay, that Jazz was equally fond of Soundwave as he was Prowl, he just refused to fight for the Decepticons because he didn't agree with their bloodthirsty ways.

He was an Autobot at heart, slave or no slave, and since Prowl was his second master, and Soundwave convinced Megatron that Jazz could be used as a secret spy on the Autobots, he was permitted to join them.

So long as he returned to report to Soundwave every so often.

Prowl and the other Autobots had learned long ago that the more jokes Jazz cracked, the more scared or in pain he was.

So no one was surprised when the whole way to meet Soundwave, Jazz told joke after joke, sticking to Prowl's side like glue.

Now they were finally meeting Jazz's first master, and it was painfully clear that Soundwave refused to give up his most beloved possession.

Soundwave was dead set on spark-bonding with him too, they discovered much to their consternation, and all the casseticons absolutely adored Jazz, who greeted them fondly when they ran up to him.

Well, all but Ravage, who stalked up to him, but purred loudly when Jazz rubbed behind his ears.

And it was obvious that Jazz was completely comfortable with them all, and was as fond of the cassettes as he was the other Autobots.

And it was equally obvious that Soundwave would not let Jazz go.

"Jazz MINE!" he growled again, reaching for his shared slave, who nimbly skipped backwards.

"Yes, but he's _mine_ too." Prowl reminded him firmly. "And unless you want him back where Megatron can sink his claws into him, I suggest you let us keep him with us. We cannot afford to have a spy in our midst anymore then you can."

Soundwave just glared.

Jazz melted to his knees when he saw that the blue TIC wouldn't budge. "Please master please." He pleaded, crawling forward so he was at Soundwave's peds.

"Same arrangements must be followed by Megatron's orders." Soundwave said with a bit of a sigh. "Soundwave powerless to change."

"What if I sparkbonded with you, and you told Megatron that the Autobots were getting suspicious of me? So I had to stay here but would communicate through our bond?" Jazz asked.

Soundwave peered down at the slave he loved. "Sparkbond yes. Megatron agree? Unsure."

Then he looked very closely at Jazz. "Jazz, would lie through Sparkbond." He said accusingly, and Jazz's face became the picture of innocence.

" I wouldn't do no such thing." He said in a hurt tone. " That would be abusing our bond!"

Soundwave didn't look convinced. "When Megatron finds out Jazz lying, Megatron will find and kill Jazz. Jazz only slave; cannot hope to evade Megatron forever." He said firmly.

Jazz grinned wickedly, the sun glinting off his visor as he slowly colored it red.

"Not if Prowler here puts me under torture first." He said slyly. "Because he found out I was a Decepticon spy, and ole Buckethead _knows_ I know many, many of his secrets, and could bring his little dream to its knees." He winked his blood-red visor at Soundwave, who had become very still.

"Jazz, would betray Soundwave?"

"Yep. If it got me what I wanted."

Slave and master stared at each other for a klik, then Soundwave slapped Jazz across the side of his face, knocking him to the ground before turning and stomping a short distance away.

After a few tense moments in which Jazz had sat back up on his knees and Prowl started hovering over him protectively, Soundwave turned back around.

"Megatron: furious." He said more coldly then usual. "He says Sparkbond may proceed to protect our secrets from the Autobots. However: Megatron does not trust Jazz. May still try to extinguish spark while in battle."

"Here's a shocker for ya, Sounders." Jazz said seriously. "He's already trying for that."

Soundwave became still again.

"Jazz: lying." He said stiffly. "Megatron promise Soundwave he will not kill slave."

"Megatron: lying." Jazz mocked Soundwave's tone.

"Why Jazz never tell Soundwave before?" Soundwave demanded.

Jazz shrugged. "Didn't wanna break your sparktrust in him, master." He smirked at him.

"Would Jazz betray Prowl for Soundwave?"

"Seems I've been doing that for vorns pal."

"After Sparkbond?"

"You mean when I've sparkbonded to Prowl? I'd betray the both of you without an ounce of regret if I had too- to be free." Jazz said bluntly.

Prowl felt shocked to his core. "But you would not truly be free unless we died- and then you would also die." He said, dazed.

Jazz shot him a quick look over his shoulder that screamed _I'm lying so shut up_.

"It's worth it to be free at least in the Well of AllSparks." He said quietly.

Soundwave cradled Jazz's face between his fingers. "May Sparkbond tonight." He murmured.

Prowl stood back silently as Soundwave attached a collar and leash to Jazz, who trotted obediently after him without so much a backwards glance at Prowl when they left.

The cassettes glared at Prowl, then scampered after their master and his slave.

"What I wouldn't give to know what Jazz truly thinks." Prowl murmured before turning and heading back to base himself.


End file.
